A.Blok, Autumn Dances - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina
By Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
translated from russian
To excite me again and again -
That's your inner and secret such will.
And the Pleasure waits for words sacred -
And the golden fabric now ready,
So that my soul would laugh in the real.
And the Autumn is smiling through tears,
Up to heavens my pray is forthflying.
Behind the lace of the lean birch so near
The golden pipe started singing aloud.
I can't help stop admiring the sounds,
So transparent, as if that's your voice, dear
But you're silent with uprised hands pose,
With your hands, pointed to zenith.
And your rounded hands are in tremble,
From white shoulders the flows downfall;
Behind you they would play a round dancing -
The autumn girls in embroidered cloths.
Washed by drizzles, you'd let hair down.
The golden locks had uncurled under water,
And the ring of the round dancing was broken
In ravine, where they played so joyously.
And excited with music of water,
I can't stop singing, dancing with you.
All the fields and the ravines are also
Cannot stop burning under your foot.
Come to us, come with us - a light-winged youth,
We are destined to fly in the air...
Where from do we take our Pleasure soon?
Where from will the Silence come near?
That's the silence of dying cereals -
That's the light time in world coming day:
That's the dream, with the special signs filled,
That will pass now as yesterday.
What would mean a flying through the time, desires? -
Only splashes of girl's hands, not other -
On the earth, on the green meadow is turning
The unseparable joyous circle round.
And the sun, being untidal, won't break ever
The rest of Silence or once anger it.
Won't forget the wood grass of the temper,
It will never forget such a spring.
And the snowflakes at the ravine's slopes
Will sweep, fill up the edges completely.
There, where the water is flowing,
There, where is the dancing and willing.
Comments about A.Blok, Autumn Dances - Translation (Rus.) by Lyudmila Purgina
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe